I, Cassiopeia Prewett Preston-Lively, Welcome You to Hell
by Flickagirl
Summary: Hogwarts is not usually hell. But after my Death Eater parents died, Gideon and Fabian Prewett became my guardians, despite being still in school. And then I started getting noticed, (which, for the first time, I could do nothing about.) Now, trapped within Hogwarts, I'm wondering which is worse: the personal interest of Voldemort or the romantic interest of Sirius Black? SB/OC
1. Chapter 1- My Life as I Know It

Chapter 1: I am more mature than my guardians

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I wasn't even old enough to have written them when they came out L**

I, Cassiopeia Prewett Preston-Lively, welcome you, with all my heart, to hell. Because that is what my house is in the summer. Hell. H-E-L-L. Deep, dark, unforgiving hell, the inescapable void I wish I didn't call home. And that is why I am currently so ecstatic that the date is September 1st, the beginning of Hogwarts, where I can reconvene with humanity.

My parents died this summer. I know its blunt, but it's the truth. They are dead, gone from the world, inexistent in life. I will never see them again.

They were bad people, my parents. _Their_ parents had gone to school with Tom Riddle, and having been in his year in Slytherin, had known the murderer. They were some of his best . . . "friends", to put it simply. As Riddle had grown into Voldemort, and Voldemort had grown powerful, my grandparents became his most trusted advisors. They were pure, as pure as time could tell, and smart. Cunning, as any Slytherin should be: you will never hear the name Lively or Preston among those of other famous Death Eaters because my ancestors were so. They hid in the shadows of the others, directing Riddle on his next move, eradicating Muggles and muggleborns without the consequences his more legendary followers encountered (like discovery)

When it came time to pass the torch, Grandfather Lively and Grandmother Lively gave the duty to their only son. Grandfather Preston and Grandmother Preston offered up their only daughter. My parents became the new advisors to Voldemort, devising his plans, creating evil, and following in their parents' footsteps. They fell in love, and then I came along, and Voldemort was ecstatic. Here was this new child, this wonderful new child, who could be raised in his favor and become even more powerful than its parents. Here was a dutiful, utterly loyal follower.

And so I was allowed to live.

My parents indulged me in every form of magic existent. At age three, my first signs of magic appeared: conjuring of random objects, the occasional control of elements. By age seven, I was eloquent in Occlumency and Legilemency. I could read my parents' thoughts, access their memories, without even realizing it. By age ten, I had mastered wandless magic, the hardest of them all. In all forms, I was a magical prodigy.

But Voldemort didn't anticipate one thing. As I grew up, I became defiant. Why should I let Voldemort kill these innocent people? Why did my parents help him? Why should I let him use me to do it? Even at age eleven, I was smart, capable, and ready to fight Voldemort. I had kept my disgust hidden from my parents for as long as I could remember, but at Hogwarts, I was free to be myself. On the first day, when I was sorted into Gryffindor, Voldemort ignorantly looked at it as a chance to get to know the enemy. He was convinced I was on his side, because how could the child raised to love the world of evil be essentially good? But me, I looked upon my sorting as a second chance, another way to fight him.

For five years at Hogwarts, I kept myself hidden. I made no friends, no enemies. I just watched. I drew no attention to myself, just watched people and their habits. This summer, the summer before sixth year and after fifth, the Aurors raided a Death Eater meeting my parents had been attending. They were killed in the raid, and yet I felt no pain or loss, but fear. I knew Voldemort would come for me now, so I ran. I would not join him. I would not use my powers to aid his cause. I am not my parents.

By watching people, I grow accustomed to who they are, who their friends are, where they come from. And so when the Aurors picked me up in Diagon Alley, I was surprised to believe they thought I was a run-away Prewett. My name is Cassiopeia Prewett Preston-Lively, but Prewett is only a middle name to me. I have no relation to Molly, or Gideon, or Fabian, blood-wise or habitually. I do not share the customary red hair or pale skin or abundance of freckles; but the Aurors, I assume, just thought that because there are so many Prewetts, I must be related somehow, because they had never heard of the Livelys or the Prestons. So I was transferred into the guardianship of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, who did, of course, have the customary features. And on that day, I became Cassie Prewett.

"So, CP, you going to be alright without us?" Gideon asks, slinging his arm around my shoulder. I smirk at him. "I managed fine without you for five years, Gideon. I'm pretty sure I can do it again."

Fabian speaks from my left side. "We just want to make sure you're going to be okay, Cass. You are our responsibility now, you know."

I roll my eyes. I don't even know why they made them my guardians. They aren't even out of school yet, and they're only seventeen. They still live with their sister! I respond to Fabian, "You only have guardianship because the rest of the Prewetts are too old to take care of me, and Molly just happened to be on her honeymoon. By chance, you two were the only ones home when the Aurors knocked."

Gideon sticks his tongue out at me. "You love us."

I stick my tongue out right back. "Only by association," I say.

We three board the Hogwarts Express together and Fabian hands me my trunk. "Now go," he shooes me away playfully.

"Go find your little friends," Gideon finishes for his twin.

I walk off down the train to find a compartment, calling after me as I go, "I'm only a year younger than you, you gits! Not little by any standards!" I can hear them laughing behind me.

I find an empty compartment a little ways down the train, open the door, load my trunk, and then settle down to read my book. I am not twenty pages into it when the compartment door bursts open, and four rather handsome boys enter. They are the Marauders, a group quite interesting to watch.

The one in front has unusually messy black hair, his hazel eyes hiding behind wire-rimmed glasses. He is pretty tall, taller than one of the other boys but not nearly as tall as the other two, and gangly. I know him to be James Potter, the lad so utterly and pathetically in love with Lily Evans, who apparently wants nothing to do with him. _I _know she secretly fancies him, though; it's really not that hard to tell.

The boy next to Potter is short and pudgy, with a pointy nose and watery blue eyes. He vaguely reminds me of a rat. By watching, I have noticed that Peter Pettigrew is the least likable of the four. He is needy and weak in the face of adversity. He likes to stick by those who are strong and on the top of the figurative food chain in order to save his skin.

The third boy is, without a doubt, Sirius Black. He has shiny black hair that falls perfectly in front of his face and lustful, deep, grey eyes. He is the handsomest of all of Hogwarts, even I can see that, despite my lack of interest. I had heard of the Blacks through my parents and Voldemort. Apparently they were supporters in theory, but Walburga and Orion were not actually Death Eaters. They did deposit large amounts of money into His cause, though, and forced their beliefs onto their children. I know Sirius Black ran away from home a little while ago for that specific reason.

The last boy is the most troubled. After watching all of Hogwarts, joyous Marauders included, that is the only way I can describe him. Remus Lupin, with his sandy blonde hair and amber eyes, is attractive, but painful to look at. It is not even the scars of his face or his werewolf secret that turns me away, but the hurt in his eyes. He has seen and experienced horrors a grown man would cower from. It changes you, those experiences. I can attest to that, for there are many things that my parents and Voldemort have done that I would give anything to forget. And for our dark, but still apparent similarities, Remus Lupin is my favorite Marauder.

He is also the one that speaks first as the four boys enter the compartment. "May we sit here?" he asks. "All the other compartments are full, and this is the only one open enough." He smiles apologetically, and I can see one of the scars from his transformations ripple on his cheek.

I nod. "Of course. Feel free to." I go back to my book. Just because I do not use my social skills often does not mean I cannot be amiable when I want to. You have to be charming to deceive Voldemort.

The boys sit down and begin talking amongst themselves while I read my book. They seem to not notice me again; over the years, I have become great at hiding among the shadows. I am never seen unless I want to be. The train ride passes quickly, and when it ends, the Marauders leave the compartment without a goodbye. I smile to myself. It's good to know that despite living with Fabian and Gideon for the summer, I am still practiced at remaining virtually invisible.

I ride by myself in a carriage up to the school as well. It is a normal occurrence; every year is the same. Being alone allows me to practice my magic. Being alone lets me watch others. Being alone permits me go unnoticed to the world.

After the sorting, the Great Hall is bustling with students eating the feast. I serve myself some carrots and some beet salad, moving to stab a beet with my fork after also pouring some pumpkin juice.

"CASSIE!"

I start, dropping my fork onto my plate. Who in the _name of Merlin's hat_ is shouting at me?

I can see Gideon and Fabian waving their arms at me in my peripheral vision. _Please go away, please go away, please go away_, I think. They're ruining my utterly non-existent, invisible reputation.

"WHY ARE YOU EATING BY YOURSELF?" Fabian yells down the table at me. I sense people turning their heads to stare at us. Maybe if I ignore them they'll go away, and the staring people will think the Prewett twins are talking to someone else. Someone who actually exists socially in the world of Hogwarts.

But I have no such luck, because Fabian and Gideon proceed to grab their plates and sit down directly across from me. They start staring as well.

I look up from my salad. "What's up, buttercups?" I ask them.

Gideon speaks, at a normal decibel this time. "Why aren't you eating with your friends?"

"What do you mean? CP doesn't have friends," Fabian teases me.

I respond to the both of them. "Of course I don't, you imbeciles."

The twins' mouths drop in shock. _Merlin and Agrippa, _I think, _they're over-dramatic. _

"What do you mean you don't have friends?" Fabian says incredulously.

Gideon reasons, "Everybody has friends."

These two are popular, funny, handsome, value attention if a little too much. They can't seem to fathom why some pretty little sixth-year, who is perfectly amiable, doesn't have a single friend.

"Did you ever consider that maybe I don't want friends?" I ask them.

They just gape at me.

* * *

The twins will not leave me alone. The badger me constantly about the lack of friendship in my life, and every time, I tell them I don't need it.

"Everyone needs friends," Gideon says to me condescendingly

Fabian pinches my cheek mockingly, "Even you, CP."

Finally classes start, and Fabian and Gideon are too busy with N.E.W.T.s level homework to pressure me into friendships. I do appreciate their concern, but they will never understand. I can't risk getting close with anybody in fear that Voldemort might kill them. It is better just to watch, to observe rather than participate. I am much too powerful and dangerous to be involved in something as trivial as friendship, no matter how conceded that sounds.

Today is our first day with real homework, so I decide to head straight to the corner of the common room to finish it. I would complete the various assignments in the library, but I find that it is much too quiet in there; I work better with a low chatter.

My first assignment is in Advanced NEWT Charms. Flitwick assigned us a series of scenarios in which we have to assess and decide which charm would be best to use. It is rather simple homework for the Advanced NEWT class, and I complete it in a pathetically short amount of time. He really should give us something that challenges our intellect in the slightest, even if it is the first real day of classes.

The assignments of Advanced NEWT Arithmancy, Advanced NEWT Herbology, and Advanced NEWT Ancient Ruins are all relatively easy as well, and by the time I am finished the clock has only chimed 8 o'clock. Nevertheless, I still have three two-foot essays on a summary of last year's curriculum in Advanced NEWT Transfiguration, NEWT History of Magic, and Advanced NEWT Defense Against the Dark Arts which I am not looking forward too. But still, at least I got off of a Potions essay by brewing a perfect Draught of Living Death, and the three essays aren't due for a week.

I decide to gather my things and head to my dorm to take a quick shower before bed. It may only be 8, but I am rather tired and am looking forward to reading my book some and getting to bed early. I rise, slinging by bag over my shoulder, and turn to walk up the stairs.

CRASH!

Despite the Common Room of Gryffindor Tower being nearly empty, I still manage to run into one of the only people occupying it: Sirius Black.

Oh my Merlin, am I getting noticed a lot today.


	2. Chapter 2- The Golden Girl

**A/N: Thanks to my AMAZING reviews and followers and favorites for supporting me! You all make me want to thank you in person for taking the time to read my story and boost my self-confidence, but alas, I can't :) Here's another chapter!**

**There was a question in the last reviews:**

**Ali (Guest): Ali asked why Cassie never gets noticed, and it's a really good question. I would answer it too, but it's all a part of the plot :) **

**P.S. Guess whose POV it is?**

Holy shit, she's HOT! (A/N: Guess yet :)? ) Her hair falls in loose curls like liquid gold down her back, her eyes an impossible shade of crystalline blue. I was coming back from grabbing the Map from our dorm when this girl turns straight into me. Obviously I was annoyed; I mean, who wouldn't be? I was trying to get back to my friends and this weirdo just comes from nowhere. Why shouldn't I be frustrated? But, regrettably, one look at her face and my hormones tell me otherwise.

"Sorry," she says, moving to brush past me. But I stop her, gently grabbing her wrist.

"No, it was my fault," I say with a charming grin, "I should have been watching where I was going, especially since there was someone as beautiful as you in here."

She looks unimpressed and raises her perfect eyebrows. "Probably," she states.

I am taken a little aback but nudge on. "Any chance I could get your name, so I can properly ask you to an apology dinner?"

Golden Girl rolls her eyes and declares a simple, "No." She leaves me at that, walking leisurely up the girls' staircase. I try to picture her gorgeous eyes as she leaves, but they seem less memorable then they were at first.

I shrug. There are plenty of other beautiful girls who would die to date the infamous Sirius Black, Marauder playboy.

* * *

I can't get her out of my head. That damn girl. It's the second month of school, and yet the Golden Girl still haunts my thoughts. Her face grows more distant every day, but I can't stop thinking about her. Nobody has ever turned me down before. She didn't even blink an eye at refusing my request. Is she even from this planet?

I try looking for her again, every night in the Gryffindor common room, but she's never there among the bustling students. I even resort to asking Evans and McDonald if they've ever seen her. They look at me as if I am nuts, telling me there is no girl with golden hair and luminescent eyes in our house, probably not even in the school. Did I imagine her?

Multiple times I attempt talking to Prongs and Moony about this. However, they have never glimpsed her either, and try to dissuade me from my search.

"It had been a long day, Padfoot," Moony starts. "I wouldn't be surprised if this random beauty 'Golden Girl' was just someone you envisioned. I mean, really? _Golden _hair and the most 'mesmerizing' eyes you've ever seen? What is she, a Disney princess?"

Prongs and I stare at Moony blankly. He mutters something indistinctly about "_ignorant purebloods._"

I ignore him and shake my head. "She was there. I know it. I _spoke_ to her."

Prongs shrugs. "My Uncle Xander used to have entire conversations with people who weren't even alive or didn't even exist. He would just be sitting in his armchair, catching up with a colleague who'd been dead thirty years. I caught him talking to a beast he called the Crumple-Horned Snorkack once. It was visiting from Sweden."

Moony and I stare incredulously at him.

"What?" Prongs exclaims indignantly. "Something like that could very well happen to Padfoot!"

"Your Uncle Xander was 127 years old, Prongs," Moony reasons. "We all attended his funeral in third year right after he was diagnosed with dragon pox. And on top of all that, he had a pet _Fwooper_.*"

Prongs rolls his eyes. "It was just a suggestion. I doubt you have anything better."

Moony is always the reasonable one: "Hallucinations are very common among people who suffer from extreme exhaustion," he says, "It was a _very_ long train ride, _and_ Pads had just eaten a very large meal."

I shrug. This whole thing is so ridiculous that I'm actually starting to wonder if Golden Girl really doesn't exist.

"Who knows, mates," I say. "Who knows."

We head to the kitchens for a snack later, despite having eaten at the feast a mere few hours earlier. We pick up Wormtail from the dorm along the way; he says he could go for some cheese.

The Invisibility Cloak is nearly too small for us sixth years, for it doesn't even cover our ankles. Moony is able to walk free from its obstruction because he's a prefect, and prefects can be out patrolling after curfew, but the rest of us have to cower in the hallways under its protection. Detention on the first day would _not _be good. Even the Marauders don't stoop that low.

The kitchens are across from the Hufflepuff common room in the basement, but I doubt the Puffs even know it's there. They are the rather meek house; I hate to say it, but even the Slytherins have more guts than those Badgers. We stop in front of the painting that guarda the entrance to the kitchens, and Moony tickles the pear. It giggles, morphing into a small brass handle. I reach from the Cloak and pull it open. The smell of roast beef and fresh baked bread wafts through the opening, and I can see the house elves scrambling to the door to serve their young masters. Us.

I have always loved the house elves. Growing up, I had one at home at Grimmauld Place, but Kreacher is a horrid little thing with a strange devotion to my mother. He is always kind to Regulus but hates me with a certain passion; it is, of course, utterly and entirely mutual. The day I love Kreacher is the day I snog Snivellus. (I just grossed myself out there.) But the Hogwarts house elves, on the other hand, are the sweetest and friendliest you'll ever meet. They refuse to take pay though Dumbledore offers it and are most honored to be working at the prestigious school. I greet the little elf who is residing at my feet.

"Good evening, Guppy!" I say my hello. "How are you today?"

Guppy widens his large orange eyes up at me. "I is well, Mister Black. We's all are happy the young masters are back. Would Mister Black like anything?" He grins eagerly.

I barely mention a bit about some pastries and pumpkin juice when Guppy starts again enthusiastically. "We's be delighted, Mister Black. We's are so pleased to serve the young Masters!" He turns to the other Marauders. "Would the Misters like anything else?"

"We're great, thanks Guppy." James replies.

Guppy returns in record time with our pastries and a large pitcher of pumpkin juice on a silver platter. We give him our thanks, sit at the small, corner table, and he retreats, bowing, into the hustle of the other elves. I grab a treacle tart and stuff it whole in my mouth. The four of us chew silently until the kitchen portrait slams shut with a bang we can even hear clearly from our table in the back corner.

A breathless voice echoes off the kitchen walls. It's Guppy. "Mistress, Mistress! We was afraid you wouldn't come see us again this week!"

"Since when have I failed to visit you all in the kitchens, Guppy?" The voice was clear and teasing. "One would think you're losing faith in me."

"Of course not, Mistress! We was looking forward to your visits all summer!" Guppy assures excitedly. "Mistress, you is our greatest friend."

"I'm touched to be considered that by you all, Guppy," the voice says, and I can almost hear her smile. I assume it's a girl, for it's much too high to be that of a male student or teacher. She speaks again, "I've told you many times, though, you shouldn't call me Mistress. You all are my friends, as I am yours."

I can hear the excited and happy chittering of the other house elves who look towards the girl –still invisible to our table – with a kind of worshipping admiration. They really do love her; she must be someone special.

As we are listening, Wormtail drops his fork with a clattering on the marble floor. It rings throughout the kitchen as seemingly loud as a gunshot.

"What was that, do you think?" The girl asks curiously.

Guppy rolls up and down on the balls of his feet. "It must have been the Masters, Miss. They is eating their pastries and pumpkin juice right now." He jumps up in the air a bit, enthusiastically. "I shall go help them, and then we can talk!"

The little elf is about to turn when the girl speaks again, warily. "Who are the Masters, Guppy?"

Guppy answers eagerly. "Why Master Black, Master Pettigrew, Master Potter, and Master Lupin, of course! They come often like you do, Miss! Let me show you."

"I must go now, Guppy-" the girl begins, suddenly cold, her figure retreating, but Guppy instead grabs her hand and pulls her over to our table in the corner.

My jaw drops when I see her. Her golden hair is still as lustrous as ever, hanging sweetly down her back in those gorgeous loose curls. She has discarded her school robes and uniform skirt for a simple pair of dark jeans and a plum sweater. The clothes make her turquoise eyes stand out even starker against her pale skin.

It was Golden Girl.

In my peripheral vision I can see the eyes of Moony and Prongs widening in shock and disbelief. They are purely astonished; I am not sure whether to be grateful that she's real or offended that a girl actually turned down one of my dinner date offers.

She stares at us Marauders for a few stolen moments in a tense stance but quickly turns to Guppy. "I really must go, Guppy." She states, waving to the other house elves, but turning quickly on her heel and leaving.

"Bye, Miss!" Guppy calls after her happily. She does not respond, except with the quiet shut of the portrait.

I face the rest of the Marauders. "Now do you believe me?" I ask them.

They all nod their heads mutely. (Well, except for Peter. He is still stuffing himself with pastries and hasn't really noticed anything unusual, like usual.) I told them she was real.

* * *

We are all back in the Gryffindor Tower common room, talking of our adventure with Golden Girl in the kitchens.

"I just can't believe she's real!" Prongs exclaims for like the fifth time in thirty minutes.

Moony sighs. "I know, Prongs. But she is, and we have to face the fact that Padfoot was right."

"Ha!" I shout, eliciting a few looks from some random first years. "I was right! You admit it! I told you she exists!"

Moony cocks his head to the side, much like a contemplating dog. "I wonder why we never noticed her before," he inquires. "She's at least our age, and much too pretty to not have dated Pads; I do believe he has snogged at least half of the girls from fourth year on."

Prongs shakes his head. "But remember, she rejected him the other day, mate."

Moony chuckles. "Finally someone does. Hopefully it'll deflate his ego a little bit."

"I'm right here, you know!" I protest. "It's rude to talk about other people when they're in the room!"

Wormtail starts. "I thought it was rude to talk about other people when they're _not _in the room," he asks.

I scoff. "Whatever."

"You sound like a bird, mate. Brining out your feminine side, are we?" Prongs judges. Moony and Wormtail snort.

I scowl at the three of them and chuck pillows at their heads. They all duck, but one pillow hits its target, causing Prongs's hair to muss, flattening his hair on one side of his head. I laugh at him; now he's the one to scowl.

"I don't see what the big deal about this girl is?" Wormtail asks airily.

Prongs gasps. "Wormtail!" he says, "This day will go down in history. Paddy was turned down by an actual girl! One that actually exists!"

Moony laughs at my expense. Wormtail giggles lightly.

"I _will_ find her." I reassure myself while my mates laugh. "I'll find her somewhere if it's the last thing I do. _Nobody_ escapes a date with Sirius Black."

My mates just keep laughing at me.

**A/N: *For all those who don't know, a Fwooper (the bird James's Uncle Xander had) is an actual magical bird whose song causes insanity. It is originally from Africa and is brightly colored, but also highly dangerous, its Ministry of Magic classification being XXX.**


	3. Chapter 3- The Discovery of Her

**A/N- I'm soooooooo sorry this chapter is late. It's the end of school, and exams are this week and next, so I have been studying my butt off every single day. I wish I had more time to write :(. Thanks again to all my reviewers, favorites, and followers who support me every day! Love you all!**

Chapter 3- The Discovery of Her

Cassie's POV

I hate the color gold. Its flashy and ostentatious, attracts the attention of the wealthy and aspiring. It draws the eye like a proud beacon, glittering like the facets of so many gems. And worse, it follows me around mockingly every day of my life.

My hair is gold. Well, I suppose it's not the brazen color of spun gold thread but a shining blonde that gleams annoyingly wherever I go, soaring behind my head like a damn gilded flag. It is so wondrously mesmerizing that I have taken to casting a strong Forget-Me-Not charm on it the first Monday of every month. I mean, really? _Golden_ hair? What the hell?

The Forget-Me-Not charm, despite its oh-so-clever name, is actually the most useful spell I know. It causes the diminishing of recollections of a specific object; in this case, me. The memories fade faster over time than they normally would. The less memorable or startling an encounter, the faster they dwindle. I just have to be careful not to be too noticeable. Or, preferably, not noticeable in the slightest.

I originally wasn't sure how the charm would work when concerning Gideon and Fabian. I half-hoped they might forget me all together, and I could resume living alone in safety. But, alas, my arrival at their house was seemingly utterly life-changing, for, despite the charm, I appear to always be on their minds. Apparently I am now a part of their quintessential "family." Merlin, how _lucky_ am I? And I mean that with the utmost sincerity, of course.

Today started as a perfect day. It is Saturday, lovely, ingenious Saturday, the one day of the week I get up on time if only to take a run around the Black Lake. I love running. It clears my head and makes me feel as if I can do anything as I push myself to run harder, sprint faster, beat my last mile time. It's sort of the strictest competition in which you can only compete against yourself and your pride. And yet the more I run, the more I feel free of my own expectations and qualms.

I used to want to be a marathon runner when I was young, conquering the race one mile at a time. But I never told my parents about my aspirations; a mention of something so Muggle and I'd never be able to run again.

At the beginning of the year, I started out with the customary, short, warm-up mile until I could run it in 7 minutes flat. It's a pretty average mile time, but at least it keeps me in shape. Now, by the second month, I'm running a consistent thirty-minute, three mile run. I'd like to get it down to 25, but the more endurance I have, the longer I can run. The longer I can be free.

Gideon and/or Fabian try to join me occasionally, despite my insistence that I prefer to run alone. Besides, they never manage to keep up after the second mile or so, panting like dogs and clutching at their chests. How do they manage to be so out of shape and yet play a brilliant game of Quidditch?

This morning I ran three and a half miles, because it just felt like a good day. It was around 50° F this morning, and I didn't even need to put on long socks to keep warm. I tied my hair up in a ponytail as I stepped outside, the briskness of the air chilling and exciting me at the same time; running is always better when it's chilly out.

After I ran, I took a cold shower (hot ones make me rash), and changed into jeans and a sweater. I rather like the color of the cashmere; it's a funny shade that reminds me of eggplants or dark plums. I had been getting ready to visit the house elves in the kitchens, and I knew they would appreciate the hue very much.

I smiled broadly when Guppy greeted me at the door. Oh Merlin, how I love the house elves. They are the only friends I have and probably the only ones I ever will (excluding Gideon and Fabian, of course, because they are obligated to like me, as my guardians). I know the little elves will never divulge my secrets because they are faithful beyond insufferable pain, and for that, I am grateful. To rely on someone is something I have trouble with, because I was born into a world of betrayal and corruption. That may never change.

Guppy and I were speaking when the crash sounded. Well, Guppy was speaking; I was teasing him mercilessly about not trusting me to visit. But in the room silent except for only our voices, the tinkling of silverware on the stone floor was like the first gunshot on a battlefield. It rang through our ears and echoed off the still walls. It was my first warning.

I asked Guppy what the clanging was, and he responded eagerly that it was most likely the Marauders. When I heard there names, my breath caught. They were the last people I ever want to run into. I already know about Black's incessant searching for me, and it is not good _at all_. If I was spotted again, the Forget-Me-Not charm might not work altogether. This simple incident could jeopardize my life if word somehow reached Voldemort.

I made to tell Guppy I was leaving, but he had dragged me over to their table in the corner before I could escape. I could see the looks of recognition registering on Potter, Lupin, and especially Black's faces as my characterizing golden hair caught the light. I stared with my equally startling blue eyes for a moment, until promptly giving Guppy and the other elves my farewell and fleeing through the portrait. Not good, not good, not good at all.

And now, after that simply _stupendous_ encounter, I am running again. My seemingly perfect day is ruined, and the longer I run, the longer I can avoid facing the inevitable: I'd been found. I contemplate this, wondering what choices I have. Hiding out is not an option. While other students and even teachers won't notice my absence, it will surely be registered by Gideon, Fabian, Potter, Black, and Lupin. The Marauders are some of the most determined people I've ever seen, and combined with the unfailing efforts of my new guardians, the five will stop at nothing to find me again. Not to mention, hiding will mean staying in my dorm, which will alert my other roommates to my existence. More people knowing of me, means more chances for Voldemort to find out, which means Voldemort then figures out my cover, which then translates to an early grave for me. So in short, hiding out is NOT an option.

I could always go on the run, but that could very well bring the same consequences. I am not ready to die just yet, unfortunately.

And so I consider not doing anything. I know this castle better than anyone, Marauders included, so if I merely avoid them, Gideon and Fabian won't know the difference, and my cover is in no way blown. The Marauders can search for me all they want, but without the help of the Prewett twins, they will never find me.

* * *

Sirius's POV

I can still envision her eyes, wide and comprehending as Guppy pulled her over to us. I _will_ find Golden Girl. I don't know why I am so determined, but I will find her if it's the last thing I do. I like challenges; everything in life has come so easy to me that challenges are the only things that make it worthwhile.

We Marauders have devised one of the most brilliant of plans; this maintains to be one of the many things we are great at. In order to lure out Golden Girl, the four of us fashioned posters of her face to place all over the school; _someone_ must know who she is. All we need is her name. Merlin knows the house elves weren't any help.

_(Earlier that day)_

_"Please please please please please tell us, Guppy," I pleaded with the little elf._

_He shook his head fervently. "Guppy won't tell Master Black. Mistress asked us not to tell anybody. Mistress is our friend."_

_James crouched next to Guppy. "Aren't we your friends too, Guppy?" He asked._

_The elf stared defiantly at James. "Mistress is our greatest friend." _

_Remus sat down in a chair beside us and consoled him. "That's alright, Guppy. We don't want you to betray your friend." The elf relaxed a little. Remus continued, "Can you at least tell us what house she's in?" _

_"Mistress always says that her loyalties lie not to a single house, but what is best for Muggles and wizards alike," Guppy stated proudly._

_I sighed._

I am tacking up the posters of Golden Girl in the Gryffindor common room with my wand when Gideon and Fabian Prewett appear suddenly behind me. "What's up, Marauder?" they ask.

I have always liked the Prewetts. They are pureblood as well and used to attend functions with their family when we were kids until their older sister Molly went and fell in love with Arthur "blood-traitor" Weasley. They weren't welcomed after that, not that they cared much. The twins were always more interested in pranking than in dirty blood. Now, at Hogwarts, they are both seventh year Gryffindors and sometimes even give us Marauders a run for our money, prank wise.

"Just looking for someone," I respond unenthusiastically.

They both nudge my shoulder conspiratorially. "Got a new girl you're trying to track down?" Fabian asks. Or, at least I think its Fabian.

I gesture to the poster, and they peer at it closely. They are always so in sync; it's kind of creepy. As if to prove my point, they turn sharply towards each other at the same time, their eyes wide.

"That's not . . . _her_, is it?" One asks the other.

The other twin responds. "Merlin's baggy trousers, I think so!"

They look at me suddenly. "You wouldn't happen to be looking for CP, would you mate?" Gideon (I think) asks.

His twin nudges him. "He'll have no idea who CP is, Gideon." Ah, so I was right; it was Gideon Prewett.

I grin excitedly. "Who's this 'CP' person?" I'm practically jumping out of my skin.

The twins stare me down harshly. "She's our daughter, so you better not make a move on her."

The shock on my face must say all, because the two brothers began to laugh hysterically. "Oh, dude!" Fabian says between gasps for breath. "You should see your face! Priceless!"

I scowl at them. "Seriously, who is she? How do you know her?" I ask grumpily.

Gideon grins slyly as an aftermath of my embarrassment. "This past summer, some Aurors dropped her off at our house after finding her in Diagon Alley. They told us that she said she had no parents, and her surname was Prewett. Molly was away on her honeymoon, so her custody went to us."

Fabian grins identically to his brother. "She's such a little squirt. Always ragging on us about only being a year older and not fit to take care of a teenage witch. We do watch over her, though. It's easy, with all three of us being Gryffindors."

I nearly spit in their faces. "She's a sixth-year Gryffindor?!"

One of the twins waves his hand nonchalantly. "Yeah, yeah. She's shares a dorm with Lily Evans, that prefect I think, and all the other sixth-year girls. How have you never seen her? She's in all your classes." They stare at me questioningly.

I shift uncomfortably.

"So what does 'CP' stand for?" I ask, effectively changing the subject.

The one that I'm pretty sure is Fabian speaks first. "Well, as far as I know its Cassie Prewett. But I think both Cassie and Prewett are short for something. Isn't that right, Fabian?"

Oh. So I got the twins mixed up. Again.

Fabian answers, "I think so. She has one of those really long first names, and then like a two or three part surname. She told us once, but I can't remember. Maybe it had something to do with a constellation?"

I rack my brain for constellations starting with "c": cancer, canis major, cepheus, cassiopeia, capricornus . . . _Wait!_ "Is it Cassiopeia?" I ask excitedly.

Gideon (I'm pretty sure, this time) responds. "Yeah! That's it. I'd never heard her last name before though. Good luck guessing."

The Prewett twins leave the Common room as I tear down my poster. I no longer need it. Finally, a lead.

I think about Golden Girl. Cassiopeia, Cassiopeia, Cassiopeia. I chant her name in my head. There aren't any pureblood Cassiopeia's that I know of, but the constellation name is purely a pureblood right, reserved for the most elite of families in the wizarding world. Who is she?

But despite this, I smile. _I'll find you, Cassie Prewett._


End file.
